


Arms Unfolding

by reysrose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Allisaac, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Chronic Pain, College Allisaac, Concussions, Cramps, Episode: s03e14 More Bad Than Good, Episode: s03e23 Insatiable, F/M, Fix It, Menstruation, Multi, Original Scira Babies, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Smut, TBA - Freeform, Vampires, Vomiting, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic, Wolfsbane Poisoning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reysrose/pseuds/reysrose
Summary: Allison/Isaac and Allison/Isaac/Scott prompts from my Tumblr @reyshxpeCh 7: Scott and Kira have their first baby. Isaac and Allison meet their nephew.
Relationships: Allison Argent & Derek Hale, Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Derek Hale & Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura
Kudos: 11





	1. Allison/Isaac + tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt

Allison doesn’t remember much after saving Isaac’s life. Her dad says that’s probably a good thing but she thinks it’s frustrating, especially because of the way Isaac looks at her when he thinks she’s not paying attention. Allison is already tired of being treated like she’s fragile, and she’s only been home from the hospital for two days.

She grunts as her eyes open and pain shoots through her abdomen, blinking until she realizes where she is. Isaac’s hand is brushing through her hair where her head rests on his thigh. The TV is on, she can hear quiet voices and weird music.

“Hey,” Isaac murmurs, cupping her cheek, “I thought I heard your breathing change. How you feeling?”

She shrugs and then grimaces when it tugs at the raw hamburger her abdomen has become. Isaac’s face shifts and the hand on her cheek comes down to rest on the back of her neck. Allison watches as black veins trail up his arms, feeling the pain lessen and relief wash over her. Isaac’s face contorts and he takes a deep, shuddering breath before letting go.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” she says, holding up her arms for support to sit up. It takes a lot of energy out of her, and she slumps against Isaac’s chest and the arm of the couch, pressing her face to the space between his shoulder and neck. Isaac rests his chin on her hair, one of his arms wrapping around her hips.

“I want to,” he says, “works better than those painkillers they sent you home with. Those things are shit.”

“You just don’t like how they make my heart rate weird,” she says into his shirt, “what are we watching?”

“You have to go back to school eventually,” she tells him a few days later as he laces their fingers, curled together on her mattress. Isaac shrugs and starts to draw her pain away. Allison reaches out and traces the black as it runs up his arm with the end of one cracked nail. She needs to cut them but she’s so tired.

“I will when you do,” Isaac mumbles, “The pain isn’t that bad today?”

“Not terrible,” she says back, “Isaac, I will be fine here with just my dad for the 8 hours you’re at school.”

Isaac’s eyes take on a glazed panic and his grip on her hand tightens. Allison squeezes back and drops it.

He starts screaming for her in the middle of the night, thrashing in the sleeping bag on her floor because he won’t sleep in her bed with her because he’s so worried about hurting her. Allison moves as fast as she can, which isn’t that fast, setting her feet gingerly on the floor.

“DAD!” she yells, lowering herself down next to Isaac’s head. She won’t be able to get back up without someone pulling her up but she takes Isaac’s thrashing head into her lap and starts carding her hands through his hair.

“Shhhhh,” she soothes, tugging on his curls, “Come on, Isaac. Wake up for me.”

“Allison,” he gasps, and then he’s scrambling away from her, getting tangled in the sleeping bag as her dad comes in.

“Isaac, hey,” her dad says, and to her surprise Isaac flings himself at him. Chris curls his arms around him as Isaac gasps for breath against his sleep shirt. His eyes are golden when she gets a good look at them, and she can see his claws poking out. She scoots closer on her bottom, one hand wrapped around her middle, and takes one of his hands. She traces the fine lines in his palm as he shakes in her dad’s arms.

“You’re alright,” Chris says in his ear, “You’re doing just fine. Just breathe, Isaac.”

He doesn’t say anything as he settles down, just droops further and further into her dad’s arms with soft whimpers. Allison convinces him gently to sleep with her instead of on the floor and Isaac is too tired to argue, pressing his nose into her collarbone. Allison rubs his back until they both drift off.

It’s her first day of school when she realizes it’s become a pattern. She tugs on Isaac’s sweater absently in English when the scar tissue knotting her abdomen starts to ache, and Isaac laces their fingers together. She watches as his veins go a dark grey, and feels the pain recede. It’s dull enough now that it barely phases him. He brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses her knuckles before turning back to the text questions they’re working on.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, not letting go of his hand.

Lydia takes her out shopping a few days later, just to Target. Allison is still pretty wiped, and her stomach hurts a lot. The doctors said that scar tissue often stays painful for a while, especially after an injury that almost killed her, but it’s getting extremely frustrating. Lydia links their pinkies as they look at nail polish.

“So,” she says, “Isaac.”

“What about him,” Allison says back, picking up an electric blue polish with glitter and putting it in their shared basket.

“Is he doing okay?” Lydia asks. Allison sighs, because that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it.

“I don’t know, honestly. He says he is but he’s so clearly lying to me. He barely sleeps, I don’t think I saw him eat yesterday, and he’s so jumpy.”

“He’s traumatized,” Lydia says, adding a neon pink to the basket and leading Allison out of beauty products.

“Yeah, no shit,” Allison says, “But I can’t help him if he won’t talk to me. I asked Scott if Isaac had told him anything but he’s giving Scott the same stuff about being fine.”

She picks up a bag of M&Ms from a side display and adds them to the basket.

“Can’t Scott just give him the glowing eyes and gently bully him into telling the truth?”

Allison snorts, grimacing when a stab of pain shoots through her middle. She reaches out for Isaac, to tug on his shirt and tell him she needs his hand, but then realizes he isn’t there and stops herself. Lydia raises an eyebrow and doesn’t say anything, just tosses some gummy worms in the basket.

“Come on,” Lydia says, “Let’s grab some more junk food and head home.”

Isaac is asleep on the couch when she and Lydia get back to the apartment, on his belly with his face smushed into the cushions. Her dad is sitting in the armchair next to the bookshelf and holds a finger to his lips when he sees them, cutting his eyes to Isaac. He trails them into the kitchen and helps them put away the snacks.

“He had a panic attack,” he says quietly, “I couldn’t tell what the trigger was, but he exhausted himself. Just be quiet, I think it’s the most restful I’ve seen him in weeks.”

She and Lydia settle in on the loveseat with a bag of chocolate dipped pretzels, changing the channel on the TV. Isaac starts whimpering a few hours later, startling himself awake with a sobbing cry for her. Allison is up and over to him in seconds, cradling his face between her hands and stroking his cheekbones.

“Allison,” he gasps, and she gets on the couch and lets him curl into her.

“Lydia’s here,” she murmurs, scratching the base of his skull.

“Hi, hon,” Lydia calls from the loveseat, “We got you a bag of sour gummy worms.”

Isaac laughs weakly into Allison’s shirt, and when he goes to pull away she doesn’t let him, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Let us take care of you, okay? You’ve been taking care of me for months.”

Isaac takes a deep, measured breath, and nods into her shirt. Allison tilts his head up and presses their lips together.


	2. "You're not broke", Allison+Isaac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Isaac gets his leg caught in the coyote trap, Allison feels a little shaky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of doing anything for grad school please give me validation lol

Isaac is pale and sweaty where he leans against a tree, letting Allison manipulate his ruined boot off his ankle. She tries not to let her hands shake as her fingers slip through his blood, being as gentle as possible. Isaac hisses in pain as she gives it a final tug, head falling back against the tree with a dull thunk. She pushes his pant leg up his shin and tries to evaluate the damage. 

“I think it’s broken,” she murmurs, rubbing her thumb over his calf in the most comforting way she can think of. Isaac grunts, looking down at his ankle, and nods.

“I can feel it trying to knit back together,” he says, strained, “but it’s not in the right place so it’s having trouble.” 

“I can call Scott,” she says, shrugging off her overshirt and wrapping it around Isaac’s ankle. The wounds are still bleeding slowly, and Isaac digs his head into the bark of the tree and cries out through his teeth. Allison calls Scott.

“I’ll be there soon,” he says. 

“Okay,” Allison croaks, because Isaac is starting to look lightheaded. Once she’s off the phone she sits next to him and lets him lean against her. Her shirt is stained with blood where it wraps around his ankle. 

“I’m fine,” he says tiredly, “Take a deep breath.” 

“You’re bleeding through my shirt and you’re the color of a ghost,” she says into his hair, “I don’t think you’re fine.”

“I will be, Ally,” he murmurs into his shirt, kissing her collarbone “You need to breathe.” 

Distantly, she realizes she’s hyperventilating, and that Isaac is stroking her ribs through her dress to try and calm her down. Allison squeezes her eyes shut and finds his other hand, lacing their fingers. Isaac’s pulse is fast and his skin is clammy, sticky with sweat, but he feels steady and solid against her side. His thumb rubs rhythmic circles against her ribs. She feels helpless, because she can tell he’s still in pain and there’s nothing she can do. She can’t set his ankle to help him heal, she can’t take the pain away, she can’t force him to drink to alleviate the shock he’s definitely in. 

“Guys?” 

Scott, Stiles, and Lydia come around the corner to where they are. With Scott and Stiles’ help Isaac makes it to his feet, swaying and nearly collapsing back on the ground. Scott steadies him, and Allison makes a panicked sound in the back of her throat. 

“Come on, man,” Scott says to Isaac, “I called Deaton and he’s gonna check you out.” 

Isaac just nods, gritting his teeth and putting one foot in front of the other. He can barely put his injured foot on the ground, and he keeps making near silent noises of pain. Allison feels thoroughly useless trailing behind them, twisting her hands together anxiously. Lydia takes one of them and Allison realizes her nails have left red marks on her palms.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, and squeezes Lydia’s hand in hers. 

“Here,” she says, as they climb into the backseat of the car. Allison had tossed Lydia her keys because she was too shaky to drive and besides, she thinks if she has to be that far away from him she will absolutely lose her shit, “lean on me and put your leg up on the seat.”

“I promise I’m okay,” Isaac murmurs, flinching hard when Lydia hits a pot hole. Allison doesn’t believe him.

She holds his hand as Deaton takes X Rays. The bones have to be re-broken, so Deaton gives Isaac enough sedative to knock out a horse, and she strokes his hair back from his face as he looks up at her with glazed blue eyes.

“I feel funny,” he slurs into her palm, and that’s when Deaton breaks his ankle again. Isaac doesn’t even notice, too busy looking up at her goofily, but the sound of his bones breaking makes Allison’s stomach lurch. While Scott is distracting Isaac, she slips away and goes to throw up, the sound of Isaac’s ankle snapping echoing over and over in her head. 

“Hi,” she murmurs to him when she gets back, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone, “Let’s go home.” 

She can’t stop crying. 

Allison feels so stupid, because it’s Isaac who got his foot caught in an animal trap, Isaac who bled everywhere and who’s ankle is healing slowly after being broken in three places, Isaac who’s dozing on her couch half in her lap because Deaton had to give him ketamine for the pain, but it’s her who’s falling apart. She sniffles and runs her fingers through his hair, telling herself to pull it together, but the tears keep falling faster and faster, soaking into the back of Isaac’s t-shirt. 

“Allison?” He whispers hoarsely, sitting up. She shivers because God, werewolves are so warm and now he’s not touching her and she needs him to touch her she absolutely- 

“Hey, hey shhhhh,” and she’s in his arms and she makes herself smaller, clinging to his shirt, his broad back. Isaac kisses the top of her head and and rubs her back, modulating his breathing so she’ll do the same.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers into his collarbone, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be upset like this it’s just-”

“You’re allowed to be upset,” he says, tilting her face up to force her to meet his eyes. They’re still a little foggy from the drugs but they’re intense and so, so blue. Allison chokes on another sob.

“I- I just- I feel broken,” she whispers, “I needed you to help me shoot straight, and load the gun, and then you got hurt- Isaac-”

And she surges up and kisses him, pressing her tongue against the seam of his lips and she’s shaking so hard-

Isaac presses his lips against hers gently and leans back, holding her cheeks. A finger traces over her dimple and Isaac looks at her, painfully serious.

“You are not broken” he tells her, pressing their foreheads together, “Just a little fucked up, is all.”

She laughs against his mouth this time, her lips against his but much less hurried and much lazier. Isaac adjusts her so that she’s in his lap and kisses her temple, cuddling up against her. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Ally,” he says, “And I’m gonna be right here.”


	3. New Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two years of dorm life, Allisaac finally move into an apartment.  
> Then they break their bed in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, a smut.

It’s a new bed. 

They’ve finally, finally moved out of dorms after two years of them, two years of bouncing between cramped bedrooms and twin beds. Isaac’s bed at the McCall’s was technically still the guest bed, even though he’d been sleeping in it for 4 years and it had sheets and a comforter Melissa bought specifically for him. Besides, Melissa insisted it was too old and the mattress was too worn to make it worth moving. Allison’s bed was a double, not a queen, and while the two of them fit in it it could be a bit of a squeeze, especially during nightmares. So Chris takes them to a mattress store and a furniture store after the rest of their apartment is set up, and they buy a new bed. It’s a king, because Isaac is taller than anyone has a right to be, and Allison likes to starfish, and Chris is feeling indulgent. He keeps looking at the pair of them like he can’t believe how grown up they are, and even says as much over dinner while Isaac blushes. Allison picks the comforter and sheets, because she has taste and Isaac does not. 

They make the bed, and then they unmake it. And fast. 

Isaac is gentle with her, so gentle. He’s always like that when he leads, broad palms sliding over her ribs with infinite delicateness after he takes off her shirt and bra, calluses scraping her oversensitive skin. He pushes her up against the door and she wraps her legs around his waist and squeezes, letting him buck up against her with a groan into her hair where his head droops low. Allison reaches up and scrapes her nails in the long curls at the base of his scalp and relishes in his shiver. 

“Bed,” she gasps, when he starts nipping at her neck with blunt teeth, rocking up against her. He’s still got on all his clothes and while her bare nipples rubbing against his shirt feel obscenely good, she wants him naked and pushing her down into the mattress. Preferably in the next five seconds. Isaac doesn’t put her down, just carries her giggling to the bed and tosses her onto their brand new pillow top mattress after tugging the comforter and sheets down. She shrieks, sitting up to tug at the ties on his track pants while Isaac tugs off his shirt. Two years of college and hard, constant lacrosse workouts have made him broader and sturdier, more muscle rippling over his frame. Allison traces the faint outlines of his abs with a finger after undoing his pants, then leans back and watches as he shucks them and his boxers off. 

“Hi,” she murmurs, tugging at his hand until he climbs on top of her, running her free hand down his back to squeeze his ass. He laces their fingers and drops his weight down on her torso the slightest bit, bracketing her hips with his knees and leaning down to kiss her. Allison sighs into his mouth and bites him, feeling his hips jerk forward. Isaac trails a hand between her breasts, pushing their laced fingers up on the pillows, fingers flexing, and then his thumb is on her clit, rubbing tight circles. She’s already plenty wet but Isaac doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re going to stain the sheets, Ally,” he breathes into her ear before scraping his teeth down her neck. When she tilts her head down to meet his eyes there’s a blur of yellow around the pupils, and a cocky look on his face as his hand does something between her legs so that he can push a finger into her while still playing with her clit. She clenches down now that there’s something clench down on, unable to keep focusing on Isaac’s eyes and letting her head fall back to the pillows. Isaac presses a kiss to her sternum as he adds another finger, and she runs a hand through his hair. His hips are shifting restlessly, and she can see a smear of precum on the inside of her thigh from his slow grinding.

“Get up here,” she gasps, and then her eyes flutter closed and she groans as her orgasm runs through her, legs shaking. Isaac latches his mouth around a nipple and laves his tongue over it through the aftershocks, so Allison reaches down, grabs his hair, and tugs until he pulls his mouth off with a self satisfied look and licks his fingers clean. Allison sits up and palms him, the velvet slide of his dick against her hand and the heat there making her shiver. Isaac’s abdomen contracts when she touches him, eyes flaring yellow again. 

“Can I ride you,” she murmurs, biting at his collarbone. Isaac nods, and gets himself on his back as Allison straddles his thighs and places her hands on his stomach to steady herself. Isaac leverages himself up on one elbow and wraps an arm around her back to keep her supported, holding himself for her with the other, and Allison slides down on him with a whimper. Pain-not-pain shoots through her and she breathes out through her nose, bending forward to press their foreheads together as she adjusts around him, Isaac’s big hand rubbing the base of her spine. He kisses her temple as she takes a deep breath and starts to roll her hips, cupping the side of his flushed face. Isaac looks so pretty when he gets like this, she thinks, guiding his hands to her hips, flushed down to his chest, eyes flashing gold. Isaac begins to guide her hips into larger movements, and Allison tangles her hands in his hair, feeling the scruff of his beard scrape against her cheeks. It feels good. It feels even better when Isaac flips them, lacing their fingers and pressing her hands up and back into the mattress. Allison wraps her legs around his waist to give him a little more space and encourage him to use a little more power, squeezing his flexing hands. Curls hang in his eyes, and she can tell he’s close because his hips are faltering, thighs shaking, and he pulls one hand away from hers to rub at her clit again. Allison uses her free hand to push his hair out of his face, drawing him down to her. Isaac presses a kiss to her sternum, pinches her clit, and then bites her nipple and Allison shudders through a second orgasm. Isaac gives a few more thrusts then her insides feel warm, Isaac’s dick twitching inside her. She holds him to her as he shakily lays down against her chest, careful not to drop it all at once, then presses his nose to the hollow of her throat and takes a deep breath.

“I’m so glad you got an implant,” he mumbles into her sweaty skin, “I like cumming inside you,”

“You’re an animal,” she giggles, carding her hands through his hair. Isaac whines in the back of his throat until she uses one hand to rub the back of his neck, then goes limp against her with a satisfied huff. Before he can fall asleep she shoves at him until he pulls out and rolls on his back, kissing his sticky forehead and going to the bathroom.

Allison pees, and cleans herself up, then takes a wet washcloth into the bedroom where Isaac is still on his back, eyes practically crossed. She wipes the sweat off his face and neck then cleans him up as well, patting his pec when she settles back next to him. There’s a defined damp spot on their brand new sheets. Isaac sprawls onto his belly, resting part of his chest against her abdomen and pushing his face back into her neck, scenting her.

“We have to do laundry,” she tells him, rubbing his bare back. He shakes his head and grunts at her in displeasure.

“Nap first,” he grumbles, long eyelashes tickling her sensitive skin, “You smell good.”

“I smell like sweat and probably sex,” she says indulgently, well used to werewolf weirdness after sex by now. Isaac grins into her collarbone and catches some skin between his teeth delicately.

“You smell like me,” he growls playfully. Allison flicks his ear and then goes back to stroking his hair. 

“Again, you’re an animal.” 

“You like it.”

“Yeah,” she says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I guess I do.”


	4. Bloodstains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison gets a pretty bad period at school.

Allison’s scent changes so sharply during third period that Isaac, who’s on a completely different floor, notices immediately and doesn’t even ask to leave class. He just shoves his shit in his backpack and speedwalks out the door, ignoring Lydia’s questioning look and their teacher’s indignant yelp from in front of the chalkboard. He’ll probably get detention for it later, but Allison’s heart rate is high like she’s in pain, and her scent is coppery, not just different. He follows the sound of her heart rate down a flight of stairs and into a different wing of the building, not even stopping when he barges into the girl’s bathroom next to the gym.

“Allison!” 

“In the big one,” she croaks. She sounds awful, and the smell of copper is stronger. Isaac hears the door unlock and walks into the stall, crouching in front of her. Allison is curled up with her cheek against her tights. She’s definitely in pain, and Isaac reaches for her hand and laces their fingers. The scent of copper is stronger, and he can smell it on her clothes and-

“Period?” he asks, squeezing her hand and leaning against the wall next to her. Allison nods and snuggles up against him, putting her head on his shoulder. Isaac focuses on taking her pain for a few seconds until she’s less distressed, then kisses the top of her head. 

“Why didn’t you text me?” He asks, resting a hand against her lower belly, knowing she likes how warm his hands are on sore muscles. Allison shrugs, nudging her nose against his neck. She looks worn out and it’s not even 10:30, dark eyes half lidded. Isaac wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her temple again. 

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” she mumbles raspily, “I get my period every month.”

“It doesn’t normally hurt this much,” Isaac says, reaching across Allison to grab her backpack and dig her keys out.

“Changed birth control,” she sighs, trying to snatch her keys out of his hand, “I think that’s probably why. Give me my keys.”

“Nope,” Isaac says, tugging her to her feet, “I’m driving you home.”

Allison turns bright red suddenly, and Isaac looks down at the floor to see a spot of bright red on the tile. He shrugs his hoodie off and hands it to her to tie around her waist, slinging his backpack on one shoulder and hers on the other.

“We don’t have to go home,” she grumbles, “I can just put my gym shorts on and deal with it.” 

“Except no,” Isaac says cheerily, “Because if we don’t skip the rest of the day, I will have to go back to AP Bio and get detention for randomly walking out.”

Allison stares blankly at the passenger seat of the car and then back at him.

“I’ll get blood on it,” she says faintly, “Or I’ll get it on your sweatshirt, and it’s already on my skirt and my tights-”

Then she starts to cry. 

“Ally,” Isaac murmurs, “You can get blood on the sweatshirt. I bled on it last week when Liam accidentally cracked my nose, remember?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “I remember.”

Isaac gets her into clean sweatpants and one of his sweaters, then pours hydrogen peroxide on all the bloody stuff and throws it in the washer. Allison is curled up in her bed with the heating pad over her stomach when he gets back and takes one of the lemon lime Gatorades from his hand. He tugs his jeans off and slides under the covers with her.

“You’re going to have detention anyway, you know.” Allison says, taking a sip of her drink and then opening her laptop for Netflix. 

“Yeah well,” he says, “I am currently laying in bed with a really hot girl watching Forensic Files, so I think the detention is worth it.” 

“Thank you,” she says, kissing the corner of his mouth and snuggling up against him, “Even if you definitely overreacted by ditching class and running across campus because my scent changed.” 

Isaac hands her the Advil bottle from the nightstand he’s claimed as his own and watches as she takes four with a grimace, handing him the bottle. She changes from Forensic Files to Community and tangles her ankles with his. 

“Take a nap,” he tells her, after three episodes of Community. She’s mostly in his lap at this point, head on his chest, and her chin keeps tucking toward her chest and then jerking back up. Isaac pulls her hair away from her face and lays down so she doesn’t really have a choice in the whole nap thing. 

“M’not tired,” she slurs. Isaac turns off the heating pad before either of them forget and flips the lamp off.

“You’re a liar,” he says, “And I don’t need your heartrate to tell me that because you’re basically drooling on my chest.”

“You like it,” she mutters, rubbing her cheek on him.

“I guess.”


	5. Heat Wave

It’s hot.

That’s basically all Allison’s brain can process right now, as she strokes Scott’s sweaty hair and watches Isaac bask in the sun coming through Scott’s window like a cat, nosing against her neck.

It’s August and it hasn’t rained in almost three weeks, not a single drop. The heat is oppressive and even the air conditioning doesn’t seem to be doing much, but the wood floor of Scott’s bedroom is cool. Her boys are languid and exhausted, have been a pile of tangled limbs for most of this heat wave. Allison looks up and watches the ceiling fan spin. She’s pretty sure both of them are sleeping now, breathing in tandem. Isaac’s nose presses against her pulse point and he makes a sleepy puppy sound, big hand curled around her bare ribcage.

The door is closed and locked. Allison has on a sports bra and a pair of Isaac’s boxers, Scott is in his underwear, and Isaac is naked. The sun catches on his pale skin and the faint sunburn on his shoulders from a day at Lydia’s pool over the weekend. He’d fallen asleep curled like a cat in a lawn chair after several rounds of chicken and Allison hadn’t made him put on more sunscreen. He’s well muscled, so much longer and leaner than Scott, and Allison would be turned on by the sight of him laying there in the sun if she wasn’t so fucking hot. She strokes down Isaac’s sweat slick back.

Once she’s sure they’re both asleep she disentangles herself from them and pulls on one of Isaac’s shirts. They shift in her absence to orbit each other instead of her, Scott’s chin on Isaac’s head, Isaac’s leg slung over Scott’s hip. tiptoeing from the bedroom and down the stairs. Melissa is watching TV on the couch and she smiles at Allison when she plops down next to her.

“Boys are dead to the world,” Allison murmurs, tugging her leg up and resting her chin on her knee, “I wouldn’t go in there, Isaac has fully forsaken clothing.”

“I don’t think he’s worn a shirt in 4 days,” Melissa murmurs.

“He hasn’t,” Allison confirms, “Which is why he has a sunburn.” Melissa chuckles.

“You okay, sweetie?” Melissa asks her, after a few minutes. Allison nods. She feels content, sleepy with the heat and the scent of Isaac’s deodorant on her stolen shirt.

“I’m happy,” Allison says quietly, “I feel like if I say it out loud it’ll go away, but I’m happy.”

“You deserve to be happy,” Melissa says, squeezing her hand. Allison doesn’t let go and they sit on the couch and watch Say Yes To The Dress until the bedroom door slams and the boys stumble into the room, still at least half asleep. Isaac at least has pants on. He scoops her up and he and Scott collapse on the loveseat, manhandling her into a position where they could both be cuddling her. Melissa snorts.

“We were having a moment, boys,” she says, heading into the kitchen. She presses a kiss to all three of their heads and both boys make happy noises. Isaac pushes his face into her neck and Scott rubs her side.

“We woke up and you weren’t there,” he practically whines, “We had to come find you.”

Allison pets his hair and kisses his temple. Isaac and Scott are asleep again in minutes, and Allison feels her own eyes droop. She lets her head fall back, makes sure she’s got one hand on either of them, and takes her own nap.


	6. "Touch her and you're dead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampires. Because of course vampires are real.

Allison’s head hurts, a slow, dull throb behind her right eye. Her face feels wet, and she can feel something rubbing against her wrists that makes her think of training with her dad. Her stomach rolls miserably as she blinks, light slipping behind her eyelids for a brief second before she squeezes them shut again, whimpering. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and she wants to throw up so she does, leaning forward and hoping it misses most of her jeans. She’s too out of it to tell. 

“Baby,” a voice hisses, “Allison. Allison, open your eyes.”

“Hurts,” she slurs, letting her head roll back onto whatever she’s tied to, “Hurts.”

“I know it hurts,” the voice hisses, “But I also know you’re concussed and that you need to wake up so you don’t get brain damage.”

The voice makes a good point, and Allison forces a single eye open and lets it roll around the room, well, dark creepy basement, she’s found herself in. 

“Good job,” the voice praises, and Allison rolls her eye toward the voice. Isaac is sitting across from her in the basement, tied to a chair just like her. She’s assuming the ropes are soaked in wolfsbane because he’s still attached to the chair, and she can smell it from across the room, along with something coppery and something acidic. She looks down at herself and sees the remnants of her school lunch on her jeans and her shoes. Allison whines, low in the back of her raw throat.

“Hi,” she slurs at Isaac across the creepy dark basement they’re in, “I don’t feel good.” 

“I know,” he says, fiddling against the ropes holding him to the chair. Allison blinks and there are two of him, then blinks again and there’s just one. The coppery smell must be blood. Isaac has it down the front of his shirt and in thick relief on the side of his neck, and it’s staining his wrists where the rope rubs.

“St- Isaac-” but she can’t get her brain to make sentences. 

“Ally,” Isaac says sharply, “I need you to listen to me. You stay awake, and stay quiet, okay?”

“No,” she moans, “I want to go home.”

“I know,” he grunts, and then makes a pained groaning sound and there’s a dull thunk and splintering, “But I need you to be quiet, and stay awake for me.”

She searches for him again, not realizing she’d closed her eyes. He’s still got the ropes around him but he’s standing up, the chair shattered on the floor. He kneels in front of her and starts to untie her.

“The ropes,” she mumbles, “Wolfsbane.”

“I know,” he says, pausing to brush hair back from her face, “I know. It’s okay. You just focus on staying with me, alright? I’ll worry about the wolfsbane later. Okay. Allison, I need you to stand up for me.

“Dizzy,” she slurs, “Don’t wanna.”

“Hey,” Isaac says, sharper than he normally ever talks to her, “I need you to help me here, babe. I can’t carry you out of here.”

She stands up. Her stomach rolls and she pukes bile on Isaac’s already ruined shirt, slumping forward. It takes him time to catch her, and he grunts with her weight.

“You’re hurt,” she gasps out, bracing her forehead against his collarbone. She realizes they’re walking, her feet dragging along the dirty ground. Isaac is breathing hard, pressing a kiss to her temple as they stop at the bottom of a set of stairs.

“I-I can’t,” she coughs out, “I can’t- just leave me here.”

“Fuck that,” Isaac snaps, “Get on my back. I need you to hold on, try and support some of your own weight, okay?”

She nods against the back of his neck once he’s got her up, wrapping shaky legs around his waist. 

“Keep talking to me,” he tells her, “When are you going prom dress shopping.”

“I can’t remember,” she moans, nestling her face against his neck. There’s still wet blood on it, and some of it is hot, a steady trickle. He’s still bleeding. He’s a werewolf, he shouldn’t still be bleeding. She’s too exhausted to point that out. 

They’re in a big, empty house, the kind she’s seen out past Lydia’s neighborhood and close to the edges of the preserve. Once they’re up the stairs Isaac sets her on her feet and wraps an arm around her waist, letting her take a second to get her bearings. Allison feels her knees buckle and grabs at his shirt, taking faltering steps with Isaac’s help. His heart is beating hard and fast, and he’s struggling to breathe just like she is. 

“Good job,” he murmurs into her hair, “You’re doing so well.” It would be patronizing if it were coming from anyone but Isaac, and if she was feeling any stronger than a piece of wet spaghett right now. She dry heaves without warning. 

“‘Ve never had a concussion before,” she slurs, “Don’t like it.”

“Shhhh.” Isaac reminds her, and then-

She’s on the cold marble floor of the front hall, her head throbbing where it must have hit again. Isaac is snarling, hunched over her like a rabid animal.

“Touch her,” he growls, “and you’re dead.” 

She doesn’t know who he’s talking to until a cold hand wraps around her ankle and yanks her back, away from Isaac. Allison screams as loud and long as she can, but she’s too weak to fight. A hand wraps around her throat and pins her to a wall. Isaac howls, and the house shakes with it. Allison squeezes her eyes shut when she sees what is in front of her because she’s convinced she’s hallucinating, but the thing is still in front of her when her eyes open again.

The person-thing-eldritch horror pinning her to the wall of the abandoned house has empty black eyes and sharp white teeth, mouth stained with blood. Allison lets out a high pitched laugh that turns into a scream when those sharp white teeth sink into her neck.

Something grabs the neck of the creature that’s drinking her blood (she hates her life) and yanks it off her. Allison has enough presence of mind to clamp her hand over the bleeding bite on her neck as she collapses to the floor, gasping and laughing, completely hysterical. The pain in her head is dull compared to the burning sensation in her freshly shredded neck. Someone grabs her from the floor and starts sprinting, so she screams.

“Easy,” Derek Hale says, “Keep pressure on that neck wound.”

“Isaac,” she sobs into his jacket, “They have Isaac-”

“Stay awake, Argent,” Derek snaps at her, when she feels her head start to fall back and starts to taste bile again. 

“M’tired,” she slurs into his neck as he readjusts her head. She still doesn’t know where Isaac is. Her brain wants to sleep so badly, but everything hurts, her hair and her fingernails and her teeth, and Derek keeps telling her she can’t. 

“Isaac,” she mumbles, as they slide in the back of a rumbling car that smells too much like exhaust to not make her retch, “Where’s Isaac?”

“Scott has him,” Derek says, “Stay with me, Allison.” 

She wakes up in a dim room, IV in the back of one hand, Lydia holding the other. She wakes up screaming too, bolting to a seat and startling Lydia so badly that her nails gouge cuts in Allison’s skin. 

“Where is he,” she realizes she’s sobbing but she can’t stop, “Where is he, Lydia where is he where is he where is he-”

“Shhhh, shhhhh Ally, shhhhhh,” Lydia is whispering, stroking Allison’s hair gently, and Allison realizes just how much pain she’s in, how much her head is throbbing and her neck is burning and Allison’s screaming turns into tears because it all hurts so, so much-

“Hi, Allison,” Melissa McCall says, and there’s a needle in one hand, “I’m going to give you something to help you calm down, honey.”

“Isaac,” she gasps, pulling her hand back from Melissa even though she knows how IV lines work, knows there’s ports for medication higher in the line, “Where’s Isaac, is he okay where is he they had him, they had him when Derek pulled me out-”

“Allison,” Melissa says gently, “Allison, Isaac is fine.”

“I want to see him,” she stutters out, “No, no, don’t give me that I want to see him.” 

“If you let me give you this,” Melissa says, “I will take you to see Isaac. I promise. But you’re pretty beat up, and you’re going to want this the second I get you out of this bed and into a wheelchair.”

Her legs are fine, she figures out. There’s a thick line of purple bruising around one ankle where she was grabbed, but other than that they’re okay. Her neck has a few stitches in it, and she has a moderate concussion. Standing up to get into the wheelchair is enough to make her head spin, and she sits back down with a huff of breath and a squeeze of Lydia’s hand. Isaac is a floor up and three rooms from the elevator, wide awake, playing cards with Derek as a bag of blood drains into him. He’s not healing. 

“Why aren’t you healing,” she asks him tiredly, and then he’s dragging himself out of his bed, wavering on his feet, grabbing his IV stand. Allison can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face when he grabs her face and kisses her full on the mouth, even when he stands up, stumbles back, and grabs at Derek to stay on his feet. 

“You,” Melissa says, pointing an accusatory finger at her second son, “get back in that bed. You lost too much blood to even be slightly mobile by normal human standards, so act like it. Allison, I can help you on his bed if you want.”

Oh, God, she wants. 

“I thought we were fucked,” Isaac tells her, as Derek and Lydia deal out the cards so they can play poker with the coins in Derek’s jacket pocket, “I woke up in that basement and you were unconscious and I could barely breathe and wow, I thought we were done for.”

“Yeah can we maybe not get kidnapped again anytime soon?” she slurs. Whatever Melissa gave her for the pain, it’s really kicking in. She’s tired and warm and Isaac is holding her tight 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, kissing her temple, “Do you not enjoy being tied to chairs in creepy basements with me?”

She shakes her head and nestles against his neck, closing her eyes. 

“I’ll try to work on that,” he whispers. 

They’re both out cold before Lydia and Derek finish the poker setup.


	7. Mateo Yukimura-McCall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Kira have their first baby. Isaac and Allison meet their nephew.

Isaac can’t believe he’s an uncle. 

Kira is still flushed, dark hair curling with sweat, head on Scott’s shoulder where they lay tangled together in the hospital bed. He hangs back in the doorway to the room, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweats and scuffing the rubber sole of his Vans on the linoleum. He’d hung back in the waiting room at first, clenching his fists together while Allison pressed a kiss to his temple and gone up to see their new family member, then taken the stairs up. 

Mateo Yukimura-McCall is cradled in his fiancee’s arms, a shock of dark hair and a dove grey, fox patterned blanket. Allison is beaming down at him, both dimples on full display, and Isaac feels something in his chest tighten. He can’t decide if it’s in a good or bad way. 

“Isaac, honey,” Melissa murmurs, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into the room instead of letting him hover in the doorway, “Come meet your nephew.”

Kira tugs Isaac to the bed and away from Melissa briefly to press a kiss to his cheek, and Scott squeezes the back of his neck, both of them making an effort to make him feel welcome, something Isaac appreciates every time they make a point of it. Melissa makes Isaac wash his hands up to the elbow before he can see the baby, and then leads him over to Allison. She’s sitting in a chair now, one finger curled in a tiny fist. 

“Isaac,” she breathes, “he’s so perfect.”

Mateo has Kira’s eyes and Scott’s crooked jaw, and when he sees Isaac he makes a scrunched up face. Isaac wants to jerk away before he starts to cry, but Mateo just furrows his tiny brows and the hand around Allison’s finger uncurls. Tentatively, Isaac brushes his pinky against Mateo’s tiny palm. The baby clings with surprising strength for someone so little and new. Isaac forgets how to breathe.

“Oh,” he murmurs, and he can feel his eyes flashing gold. Mateo blinks up at him, and Isaac is terrified that he’s scared the kid. His scent must be going haywire, because Scott says his name.

“Isaac,” Scott murmurs, “Your eyes?”

“Yeah,” he says, staying as still as possible because he’s still not sure Mateo isn’t going to start screaming, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Mine did the same thing,” Scott says, “He smells like we do. I think that’s why.”

“I-” he doesn’t know what to say. Noshiko comes up to him and places her small, cool hand on his shoulder.

“Would you like to hold him?” she says, always gentle but firm. Isaac nods wordlessly, and she sits him in the chair next to Allison, because she always knows when one of them needs a little guidance. Allison stands and passes Mateo to him, perching on the arm of the chair and resting a hand on the back of his neck as he gets the tiny body in his arms settled.

“Oh,” Isaac says, half stunned, “He’s heavier than I thought.”

Kira groans, and Allison lets out a delighted laugh. 

Mateo is warm and wriggly in his arms, seemingly annoyed at being mostly swaddled but too little to do anything about it. Isaac is equal parts terrified and in love. Mateo turns his tiny head into Isaac’s chest and makes whimpery noises, and then he’s howling louder than Isaac and Scott. Isaac startles, handing him off to Melissa as fast as possible. Mateo screams until he’s tucked into Kira’s arms and Kira gets him to her chest. Isaac blushes a little, turning his head away, and Allison laughs and cups his face.

“Well,” she whispers, draping herself into his lap, “what do you think?”

“He’s like a tiny Scott,” Isaac says, feeling dazed. Hospitals are full of sounds and smells, and the feeling of Pack, of new Pack, of tiny fragile weak must be protected Pack, has his senses a little haywire. His brain is more wolf than 25 year old right now, and he focuses on the feeling and warmth of Allison in his arms, her weight on his chest. He presses his nose to her neck and breathes in her scent, leather and wood oil and graphite and lavender, and focuses on her and just her. Allison must pick up on his stress, because she starts scratching her nails at the base of his skull. 

“It’s overwhelming,” Scott says, from the bed, “A new member of the pack. I had a little bit of an overstimulated meltdown when he was first brought to us.”

Isaac huffs into Allison’s neck and relaxes. 

“He’s a wolf,” Isaac mumbles, “Isn’t he? He smells like we do.”

“As far as I can tell, yeah,” Scott says, “Deaton says there are ways to check, but I don’t think we’ll need those.” 

Isaac sits up and leans back in the chair, letting Allison keep playing with his hair. They leave after a while, because Kira is falling asleep and so is Scott, pressing kisses to Kira’s hair on their way out.

Allison looks over at him from the driver’s seat at a red light, Isaac scrolling through the pictures they took of Mateo. He pauses at one of Allison holding him, looking down at him and smiling in a way that makes Isaac want to kiss her stupid.

“Do you want one?” she asks, “ A little family of our own?”

“Yeah,” he says, surprising even himself, “I think I do.” 

“He’s going to need pack,” Allison murmurs, reaching to take his free hand, “cousins.”

“He has pack,” Isaac says, thinking of how familiar Mateo had smelled, how Isaac had immediately known that kid was in part his to protect, “But I see what you mean.”

“We could practice,” he says later, pulling into their hotel parking lot, “I’ve heard sometimes it takes practice.”

Allison grabs him by the wrist and drags him to the door.


End file.
